Firesong
by sotto.voce88
Summary: United they stand, united they fall. A song of fire. Drabble collection. No 4 - Pavane; IchiRuki
1. Prelude

A/N: This will be a collection of Bleach drabbles/vignettes - primarily focussing on the Ichi/Ruki pairing. There will be an ongoing motif throughout the (hopefully, soon to be) collection. It is likely that there will be both canon and non-canon themes.

Hope you enjoy, and feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

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**Firesong**

_Prelude_

The night is young, the wind is alive, the darkness is breathing.

His eyes paint a scene. The outside, the inside, the here, the now.

The streetlamps on the path casting dusky shadows over his desk. The swallowtail in his room, like a small shadow flickering across the curtains. A lithe figure in the darkness.

Light footsteps that echo in his heart and soft breathing that disperses through the night

A girl dressed in black. A sword in her hand that glints in the moonlight. Her movements are swift, silent.

And in the seconds before the commotion begins, the scene is imprinted in his mind and he sees a fleeting glimpse of the future. Paths to walk, decisions to make, tears to shed.

This is only the beginning.

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A/N: I hope it wasn't too bad - and reviews are much appreciated! 


	2. Fugue

A/N: Here's the second one - I hope it's not too confusing. I tried to write something a teensy little bit angsty, but I'm not sure it worked quite the way I wanted it to. Please let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

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**Firesong**

_Fugue_

She feels his presence long before he comes, but she knows better than to stand around and wait, because she knows she will change her mind a thousand times. So she listens to the crazy girl in front of her, and watches the sky and the trees and the grass and wonders if it'll ever seem as beautiful as the living world.

She remembers a time of watching and waiting, a time when she saw the world through a small slit hidden amongst overwhelming walls of white. And she felt them, felt their reiatsu; four slivers of colour in that bright, white darkness. Four names, four _themes_ echoing in her head; _Yasutora … Inoue … Ishida … _Ichigo. A mantra of hidden hope and despair, with four figures weaving their patterns over those cold stone walls.

She remembers listening to their stories afterwards, and, watching that boy with hair so bright it hurt her heart, a small part of her wished that she'd been a member of their team, dancing their battle steps, calling their battle cries, each voice a separate part of a story whose words only fate can understand. She wants to sing one of their harmonies.

But for now she knows she can't. Because they are of _there_ and she is of _here_ and _here_ can never be _there_, and _there_ can never be _here_.

So she tells the boy that she is not leaving with him. And she wants to tell him that his soul is as vivid as his hair, that sometimes she can hear the whispers of his heart, but the words get caught in her throat, and all she ends ups saying is 'I've decided to remain here'.

For a fraction of a second, she senses a kind of vulnerability in him, but the moment passes, and she'll never know that her words tear up his heart and shatter the soul she loves so much. She'll never know that in his heart, he's carved a place for her. She can only see a pause, hesitation, and then he stands straight and smiles at her, a smile of assurance for a right decision that somehow feels so wrong.

When he turns, he does not look back, because he knows that if he does, a small part of him will break and he will not have the strength to leave her behind. But he knows they will meet again, because she is a part of their fugue of loyalty, of kindness, of perseverance, of courage. Of love.

And though each voice sings its own theme, it is together that they forge destiny.

oxoxo

_When along the pavement,_

_Palpitating flames of life,_

_People flicker round me,_

_I forget my bereavement,_

_The gap in the great constellation,_

_The place where a star used to be._

_ - D.H. Lawrence,__"Submergence"_

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_A/N: Hope you enjoyed it - again, reviews are much appreciated!


	3. Nocturne

A/N: Set before the arrancar attack Karakura. I don't think they're actually in Karakura before the battles start ... but let's just pretend they are ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

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**Firesong**

_Nocturne_

He sits on the roof of the clinic, russet tiles uneven and jagged beneath his back. The sky draws a thick blanket of darkness over the world and he can barely see the faint dusting of stars against overwhelming black. The night air presses in around him, thick with uncertainties and smothered hopes.

The fate of the world is a heavy burden.

There's a faint rustling to his left, and a small, lithe figure makes its way toward him. She reaches a hand outwards to steady herself as she settles at his side, her dark hair blending with the night. With her shoulder pressed against his, he can almost feel the rise and fall of her chest. He watches the mist of her breath dissipate in the air before them and prays to whoever's listening that it won't be taken away from her tomorrow.

"Hey," he says, turning his head towards her slowly.

She looks back at him with eyes the colour of night and he can't remember what he wants to say, because all he can see in her gaze is determination and a steady, unwavering faith in him.

"What?"

He turns away again, eyes towards the sky, until he feels that familiar pressure build in his chest and he says gruffly,

"Don't make me worry tomorrow."

She pauses. He's said it before, but somehow this time it means so much more, because the arrancar are coming to his hometown tomorrow, and there's so much to lose and so much to hope for and she knows he feels too much to say, so she shifts a little closer and hopes he understands. She wants to take his hand in hers and brush away the frown from his forehead but the air feels like iron around her and she can't move her hand. So instead, she tells him all the things she'll do as soon as this is over. The noodles she'll try from that shop near Karakura High, the juice-box she'll open herself, the rabbit plushie she'll buy.

And as she chatters through the night, his scowl becomes a crooked smile, and he closes his eyes because her voice is his lullaby.

Only she can steal this night for him.

~*~

_Give me something to believe in._

_A breath from the breathing_

_It's just that at night I've got nowhere to hide._

_So I write you a lullaby._

_~ Jack's Mannequin, __"Hammer and Strings"_

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one (: reviews are appreciated very muchly.


	4. Pavane

A/N: Here's another one with no plot whatsoever, but that's what drabbles are for ... right?? Haha, anyways, I sort of like the idea that the two of them don't have to be snarky all the time. Hope you enjoy it, and as always, reviews brighten my day!

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach

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**Firesong**

_Pavane_

Sometimes on languid summer afternoons, when the sky rains sunshine and the breeze sings with life, Ichigo takes Rukia to the field by the river, beyond the reach of noise and traffic and technology. He leads them through beds of vividly coloured flowers, and the sun beams upon a path of hydrangea with such brightness it hurts to look, so they turn their eyes away. The air is still and quiet, and Ichigo almost believes the world may have stopped revolving, just for them.

They lie in the grass and savour the feeling of soft prickling against the back of their necks, because to feel is to live, and Rukia wants so much to forget that life – real, true life – is further than impossible for her. But this afternoon is for dreaming and the faint graze of Ichigo's fingers against hers gives her enough hope, enough courage, to make believe that this world has something more to offer her.

Tiny waves reach the river foreshore beyond them, and they listen for the faint, trickling splash of water upon sand before each wave is drawn inevitably back toward the river, carried by an intangible force, an unrelenting current. And while Rukia is lulled softly to sleep, Ichigo keeps vigilance by her side, moving his hand gently to twine their fingers, hers pale and slender against his own honey coloured skin.

Their time together is precious, sacred, and though he longs for an end to this war, there is always the distant knowledge that the price of peace is not just merciless killing and bloodshed and indescribable loss; it will cost him afternoons with a tiny, fragile shinigami with indigo eyes and a sharp tongue; evenings of manga re-enactments and flying over rooftops; mornings of heavy eyelids and tired smiles. So for now he watches her sleep and tries to forget a world that needs saving, tries to forget a world that needs him to be a warrior.

Time plods along slowly, and Ichigo knows that each step towards victory is long and slow and arduous. His path is laden with dangers and deaths and anguish, but he'll walk each stride with sureness and precision, and he'll have this girl, this shinigami, by his side, trusting his every move, and the thought itself is more than enough for him.

Rukia shifts in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her hair frames her pale face in ribbons of ebony, and the grass leaves faint marks against her cheek. Ichigo drinks in the sight of her, and the last golden rays of a fading sun bathe her skin in pools of light so bright it hurts.

But it's a good kind of hurt, so he doesn't look away.

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_:: Pavane pour une infante défunte ::_

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A/N: Reviews are love :) thanks for reading!


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